District Nine and Three-Quarters
by SuperStar091
Summary: No one in Panem knows about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which lies in thought-to-be-destroyed England. But when water levels rise and England threatens to go underwater, Hogwarts is forced to move. The downside? District 9 3/4 will have to submit tributes in the Hunger Games.
1. Hogwarts: A History

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the Hunger Games. None of it.**

**Hope you enjoy this crossover! Comments welcome and appreciated :)**

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While we were in our own magical world, we did not know that the earth around us was suffering an apocalypse.

Our wizarding school, Hogwarts was, indeed, too safe, protecting us from the wars that raged outside, the diseases that took lives, the natural disasters that tore the continents into pieces. Floods, tsunamis, volcanoes, blizzards, earthquakes. In a matter of months, the world we knew was gone.

The worst part was that it happened so fast. All of a sudden, the letters you sent to your parents simply weren't answered. It took until break for us to figure out that we weren't going home for the holidays. Everyone was dead outside.

That was when Headmaster Dumbledore realized that we must be relocated, or we would die with the others. Water levels were rising, and England was soon due to go under. We thought there was no hope, until we heard of a nation across the sea. Panem. Their Capitol told us they would take care of us, and give us a new home.

All of the students orphans, we were taken there. District 9 3/4. We still go to Hogwarts, but it is no longer a School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

They took our magic. Every single bit of it, gone. When the Capitol said we could move here, there was one condition: that we become like Muggle humans. It was either to give up your magic, or your life. Guess what most of us chose.

Our district's new trade is clothes-making. I guess the Capitol figured that we're all still young, and they can work us half to death because we'll always live through it. So every day, after lessons at Hogwarts School of District 9 3/4, I work my fingers to the bone in a sweat shop with all of the other girls and sew clothes for people in the Capitol. For seven hours, almost straight through. The boys don't have it much better. When they're not helping to make the clothes, too, they spend countless hours loading boxes of the apparel we make to be shipped away.

After a while, you get used to it. You learn to accept the fact that you are an orphan, that you have no control over what happens in your life, and you learn to ignore the pain. You learn to wear an unreadable mask on your face, so that no one can see what you're really feeling. You learn to not say everything you think out loud, because one wrong comment and you're being punished publicly.

One more thing. Apparently, before we came here, there were 13 districts. They rebelled against the Capitol, and District 13 ended up being blown sky-high. The Capitol wanted to make sure that the remaining districts paid for the uprising, so every year, each district must send two children, a boy and a girl, between the ages of 12 and 18. These tributes will be placed in an arena to fight to the death, until one lone victor remains. The winner is showered with honor and prizes and admiration, and the Capitol's happy for a year. Then next year, they do it again.

An on and on the cycle goes, each year a new set of Games, a new victor.

The Capitol didn't think it fair that we were the only district that didn't have to participate. So, beginning last year, our names were entered into the bowls to be drawn. Two unfortunate children, sent as tributes for our district, to be slaughtered in punishment for something we never did wrong.

I am Hermione Granger. I am 16 years old, and my home is District 9 3/4. My name is in the reaping bowl 18 times.

Oh, and the reaping is tomorrow.


	2. Into the Woods

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Hunger Games.**

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Each morning before school, I disobey about 14 laws and slip out into the woods from a little hole in the gate, to the only place where I feel myself again.

I am going there to meet my two best friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. We never get to see each other anymore, with work and school, so this is our get-together time. And we can say anything we want, because it's out in the woods and there's no one watching. We hunt for food together, to bring back to the school. We would probably starve if we didn't.

The Capitol doesn't exactly care about us that much. There's barely any food in this tiny district, and we go hungry on a daily basis. The only time they really acknowledge our presence is when we break the rules, send them a new shipment of their fancy clothes, or when it's the Games.

We have the choice of signing up for tesserae, where we enter our names in the reaping extra times in exchange for extra food for a year. Automatically, my name is in there 5 times, but the other 13 are for food for me and 12 other students. They are for the young girls that I share a dorm with. They aren't able to sign for tesserae of their own yet, so I provide for them. But even the extra grain and oil we get from this isn't enough. So Harry, Ron, and I took up hunting.

"'Mione," greets Ron as I stumble into the clearing we always meet at. Harry waves. They both sit on a log, eating the green apples we found on a tree nearby. They're very sour, but there's so many of them, it'd be a waste not to eat them.

"Hi," I say, smiling for the first time in what seems like forever. There isn't much reason to in the district. I walk over to where they rest.

Ron takes the bow off of his back and plucks on the string. "Who's taking the bow today?" I'd consider myself quite skilled with the bow and arrow. But I take one look at my fingers, and grimace. They're raw from working so hard, and apparently I'm not as skilled with sewing, as I have clumsily jabbed a needle into my fingers multiple times this week. Shaking my head, I show him how bad they are. "I can't today."

Harry volunteers. "I'll do it. Hermione, you and Ron gather. Remember the four-note whistle, see you soon." He runs off into the woods, the bow loaded. I whistle the tune that he talked about, the tune that let us know that the rest of our food-gathering group is safe. The birds, the half-Capitol-created (it's a long story) day-owls, like to sing it back to us, and soon the whole forest is filled with the reassuring melody. Our warning alarm is a sharp two-note sequence, and that means that we are in danger. It's our way of communicating out here.

Ron and I go to our berry bushes - a rare treat we found a few days ago - and work at stripping them of the sweet blackberries. I look over at my redhead best friend just as he sneakily pops one into his mouth.

"Ron Weasley!" I cry. He whips his head to look at me, the berry juice staining the corners of his mouth. "You're eating them," I note, unable to contain a small laugh.

"No, I'm not," he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, smearing the berry juice even more.

I smile. "Yes, you are."

"I'm starving, 'Mione!"

"You're always starving." Ron and his appetite. "Let's not eat any more until we get back to the school. We'll ration them out there."

"Oh, you're always spoiling the fun," he says, jokingly sticking out his tongue at me. I laugh. That's our relationship. Like brother and sister. OA lot of girls in school think that we're dating each other, but we're not. Anyway, there's not really any time for relationships here, between work and school and trying to keep everyone from starving. I've never really... thought about it.

We silently pick berries, and there's not many left so Ron moves over to the apple tree to collect its fruit. Suddenly, Ron stops and turns to me. He looks weary. "Today is the reaping," he says. I wince. I know that, I just want to forget that it is, though. "How many times is your name in the bowl?" he asks.

"18," I tell him. "What about you?"

"21."

"I don't want to be picked," I say, quietly. If it was my choice, no one would be picked. But it's not my choice. It's the Capitol's, and everything is their choice. Just thinking about it makes me so furious that I accidentally squish a berry under my fingers.

"I don't want to be picked either. Or you, or Harry," agrees Ron. The four-note tune comes from the side of the forest Harry is in. He must have started it.

"We have to go soon," I say, checking the position of the sun in the sky. We're allowed to be out here longer, because school is cancelled, but the reaping is at two. Just then, Harry crashes through the trees to us with a belt of rabbits.

"Perfect timing. Were those from the snares?" I ask Harry.

"Yep. I almost shot a deer, but my aim isn't very steady. I missed."

Ron and I grab the buckets of berries and apples and Harry carries the bow, arrows, and rabbits. We slip through a hole in the fence, one that's a little bigger and closer to the school, and Ron goes ahead to make sure there are no Peacekeepers guarding the entrance. If they found out we were hunting outside the fence, they'd probably kill us. All three of us agreed, though, that we'd take a bullet to the head over starving to death.

When we step inside, carrying the fresh game and rare berries, the students nearby cheer. We go into the kitchen where some of the graduated students work and drop off the food.

"Thanks," says a sweet ex-student named Clara Clovesweep. She usually receives the spoils from our trip to the woods and makes sure they're used to their full ability. She takes a look at the rabbits and smiles. "This'll be great meat for stew."

Ron, Harry and I meet back outside the kitchen. It's just about time for lunch, and students are called to the cafeteria. We eat, a small bowl of stew, the green apples that we found in abundance, and a single cracker each. The students that signed for tesserae receive a small bun, made from the rough, gritty tesserae grain.

When lunch is finished, the teachers urge us to go get ready for the reaping. It's going on public television, so they advise us to wear nice clothes. I leave Harry and Ron to bathe and prepare myself.

I don't have much in my closet. You'd think that the district that makes clothes would have the nicest clothes, but we don't get to keep anything we make. Most of our clothes are just things that still fit us that we were able to take from home. Besides a few old sweaters, worn-out jeans, and skirts with frayed edges, in the back of my closet I have a pretty light grey dress that's belted at the waist. It used to be my mother's, before she... died. I slip it on, and check in the mirror that our dorm shares. It's a tad big, but it works. I add some tight-fitting black flats, pull my hair into a bun, and put on a necklace.

Ginny, my girl best friend, comes over from her bunk. "You look lovely," she says, offering a small smile.

"Thank you," I say, trying to be cheerful back. It's not exactly the most cheerful day. "You look beautiful, too," I tell her. She does. Her red hair is halfway pulled back, showing off the dangly earrings Harry, her boyfriend, bought her. They cost an arm and a leg, and I remember how Harry would go into the woods late at night to hunt for extra game. I guess he didn't care about the danger. He loves Ginny.

She wears an emerald green dress with a full skirt and short sleeves. It's a nice color on her.

"Hey," she says, turning me by the shoulders to face her. She can see that my eyes are glassy and every second, I'm growing more and more nervous. I've seen last year's Games. I've seen how they glorify the bloody, gruesome deaths. She pulls my into a hug. "It's going to be OK."

"How do you know?" I ask, my voice catching. Ginny doesn't answer, but her hug still comforts me.


	3. Stupefy

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Hunger Games.**

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"Name, please?"

"Hermione Granger."

The Peacekeeper checks something off, hands me a pen, and has me sign my name on a list. She jabs my finger and squeezes a drop blood out of it, and then I'm led by two other Peacekeepers to the girl's side of the pavilion. The younger girls stand up near the front, and the older in the back, so I'm somewhere in the middle. If I stand on my tiptoes, I can see Harry and Ron, standing together. They see me and smile grimly.

I take a deep breath. I have to relax. I stare at the two bowls sitting on the stage. One is filled with the girls' names. The other with the boys'. My name is in the one on the left 18 times.

After waiting for what seems like forever for the camera crews to adjust and the Peacekeepers to make sure everyone is present, finally, we're ready to begin. Our district escort, Button, comes out of the doors at the back of the stage. As she waves and smiles to the silent crowd, I wonder how much her parents must have hated her to have named her so.

Button shuffles to the microphone in her extremely high heels. "Welcome to the 14th annual Hunger Games! Let's begin, shall we?" She giggles, and I want to puke. "But first... A special message, straight from the Capitol itself."

The screens that fall on either side of the stage flash from showing Button to a video, explaining the history of the Hunger Games and the Treaty of the Treason. It was the same video last year, and we practically learn about this every single day at school, so I tune out. They read the entire Treaty, which I have memorized, and then it fades to black. Button looks thrilled.

"It's time for the reaping now! Who's excited?" She's answered with silence, but she seems unfazed. "Ladies first, as always." Another giggle, and a pop of her foot, and she trots over to the bowl on the left.

It's not very often that I pull up memories of life at the England Hogwarts, because it's usually too painful. I've simply stuck to getting through the day, surviving, and I've been fine. But I can't help but remember, my third year, I signed up to take every single class available. Since many of them were held at the same time, though, I was given a Time-Turner so that I could attend all of them. When I used it, it felt like time was moving in slow-motion around me. It dragged on, seemingly forever, waiting for time to catch up with me.

That's what it feels like now, as Button mixes around the papers, stirring them up. She chooses a slip, then drops it back in, and then waits for a moment, and repeats. Every time she drops one back in the bowl, I imagine my name being put back.

Finally, I think she feels she's tortured the girls enough and pulls out a slip. She walks back to center stage, her fingers pulling open the folded paper. She leans in to the mic, takes in a deep breath, and reads the name.

"Hermione Granger."

Button could have just Stupefied me, and the effect would have been the same. I stumble back, knocking into Padma Patil, who helps steady me. I'm not feeling too good. I'm a bit dizzy...

"Hermione Granger, come on up to the stage!" Button cheers. I know I need to go. Shaking my head to clear my vision of the fuzziness that blocks it, I walk up to the stage. The dead silence is roaring in my ears. My eyes land on Ginny, then on Harry and Ron, and it's all that I can do not to break down, or pass out. I have to be strong. For them. For myself.

Button just stares at me with extremely annoying excitement for a moment, and I refuse to look at her, then she turns back to the audience.

"Now, for the boys." She shuffles over to the other bowl, and I watch as she dips in her hand. This time, she grabs the very first slip, on the top of the bowl, and walks right back over to the mic.

OK, time to know who's coming to the death arena with me. I cross my fingers and hope that it's not Ron or Harry. Anyone but them, please.

Button unfolds the paper, leans in, and announces the name written neatly written on the slip.

"Draco Malfoy."

Oh, no, no, no, not him, either. I wish I could go back and change what I wished for. Please, not Ron, not Harry, not Draco Malfoy, either.

As he walks to the stage, another memory comes flooding back. This day is full of them. Something that happened long ago, but I haven't forgotten, and I swore I never would...


	4. I Hate Draco Malfoy

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Hunger Games.**

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I hate Draco Malfoy. That horrid, evil, rotten little ferret. There's no person on earth that I could hate more.

Ever since my first year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has made my life and my friends' lives miserable. The cruel comments, tattling, and endless teasing. He has made me feel like the ugliest, worst girl on earth. The names he would call me. Teacher's pet. Mudblood. The things he would do to my friends. I would never forgive him for ruining my childhood.

One freezing, wet February morning, the first rough year of living in Panem, I stumbled into Hogwarts with Harry and Ron after a morning of hunting. Nothing. Nothing in the snares, nothing to gather, not even a rabbit or squirrel scampered by as we searched. I only hoped that none of us would go hungry. Food was running low. The little money we earned from working wasn't enough to feed us very well.

After another day of barely eating, I resolved to go out hunting after work. It would be dark outside, and Ron and Harry couldn't come because they worked late that day, but I needed to go, or we'd starve. Perhaps I'd find something out at night.

So, late that evening, I checked to make sure no one was watching, and snuck out of the dorms to one of the doors out of the school. Just as I was about to step outside, an icy feeling washed over me, as if someone were watching me. I whirled around to see what it was, but there was no one. I assured myself it was nothing and slipped out into the frigid night air that awaited.

I was completely exhausted, and I basically almost got frostbite in that dark forest, but I managed to shoot a medium-sized rabbit. Wanting to get out of the darkness, I hurried back to school, put the rabbit in the kitchen, and snuck back to my dorm.

The next morning after breakfast, I filled in Ron and Harry about my excursion the night before. We parted and headed off to our classes. The Capitol placed me a year above Harry and Ron for classes, along with a few other gifted students from my grade. Frankly, I could have cared less about academics, when I'd been focused on not letting my friends and I starve.

Our History of Panem teacher, Mrs. Satin, was just about to begin another one of her daily lectures about how amazing the Capitol was, when four Peacekeepers burst into the room.

"Hermione Granger," one with a deep voice said. They looked about the room for me. "Stand," he commanded. Slowly, shakily, I stood from my desk. What was wrong? Was I in trouble? A horrible thought occurred to me. What if I had been caught sneaking out last night? Right then, they could have executed me for breaking so many laws.

"We found this in the kitchen this morning," said what I think was a female Peacekeeper, holding up the rabbit I had shot. "Sources tell us that our first suspect should be you." Wait. Who told them that?

I had to come up with a cover story, fast. They knew it was me.

"I... I... It wasn't..." The words just weren't coming. They were going to take me away and beat me, maybe even torture and kill me. I prayed that Ron and Harry would be spared from punishment.

"It was me," said a quiet voice. My head shot up to look at who spoke those words. I searched the room, and finally I found the voice when the Peacekeeper's hands let go of my arms and seized the person.

The voice belonged to Draco Malfoy,

"...It was just outside of the fence, and I stabbed it with a stick," he lied convincingly, his gaze towards the floor. I watched in complete shock as the Peacekeepers pulled Draco's arms behind his back and marched him out of the room. It was silent. Not once did our eyes meet. He kept his face turned away from me.

The teacher commanded us to be silent, and the lesson immediately continued. But I couldn't focus. Why would someone do that? And of all people, Draco Malfoy?

I remember back in third year when I punched him in the face. We'd been mortal enemies our whole lives. I hate him, he hates me. So why on earth would he take the blame for something that could get him killed?

... Killed. That's right. Draco Malfoy just basically sacrificed his life for me. They could have killed me for poaching. The only thing I can think of is that he knows that I am responsible for bringing a lot of the food to the school. If not for me and my knowledge of plants, we'd all probably be dead from either starvation, or eating poisonous plants that Ron and Harry like to pick. I bring in most of the food supply to Hogwarts.

Maybe Malfoy thought that, if I was dead, the people he cared about would go hungry. But Malfoy doesn't care about anyone. Scratch that theory...

There was absolutely nothing I could think of.

The next morning, Madame Pomfrey sought me out to beg me to collect some medicinal herbs while I went out hunting. I carefully collected the plants she asked for, and when I brought them in to the hospital wing, I saw him. Draco Malfoy, laying on his stomach, his back bloody and raw from the whipping they had given him.

Madame Pomfrey requested my help, and even though I was sure I would throw up, I assisted. A big bowl of the snow from outside, some numbing and healing herbs, and a snow coat to spread on his back was ready. It felt so strange, helping ladle a layer of the cold stuff onto an unconscious Draco. While I did what I was told, I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that the state he was in was all because of me. That he was lucky he was still alive.

Draco started to barely wake up from the spell of the painkillers, but I was quicker. I bid Madame Pomfrey goodbye and ran, down the hall, through the corridors, and into the dorms before he could see me. I was far too confused to understand anything.

After the incident, we never spoke. Every once in a while, I would feel an icy gaze watching me, and I would turn around to find Draco's eyes trained on me. He would sneer, and then his eyes would quickly flit away, and I'd find myself in the same state of deep confusion I felt the first day in the hospital wing.

I mean, I hate Draco Malfoy.

And he hates me.

Right?


	5. No Time Left

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Hunger Games.**

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"Now shake hands!" Button demands, like it's obvious that it's what we have to do. Still, we stare each other down for a second longer before we grudgingly shake our hands. Draco's eyes are like pure ice, grey-blue and freezing cold, but his hands and strong and warm.

And all of a sudden, I'm being led into the Justice building behind us, and we're taken to separate rooms. The beautiful place I'm led to looks a lot like my England house. Light and sunny, but well decorated. It seems way too happy looking for a day like this. I collapse into an armchair. I want to cry, and try to, but the tears don't come.

A few minutes later, the doors creak open and someone steps in. It's Dumbledore. Today he wears dark robes, probably because he is mourning for the students he will lose in the coming weeks. One of them will be me.

"Miss Granger," he says, taking the plush chair across from me. "I've come to wish you best of luck in the Games ahead. Or, what do they say here? May the odds be in your favor."

I nod. "Thank you, Headmaster," I whisper. My voice cracks.

"I do believe I am allowed to offer some advice," he says, in the wise old way he always does. Dumbledore may have lost a lot when we were forced to relocate and surrender to the Capitol, but he did not lose his knowledge. I will treasure whatever advice he gives. He leans in to me.

"I've helped arrange your prep team this year. Your mentor, as well," he says softly. "I advise you to do as they say. Don't resist them or their instruction." His eyes twinkle, like they did when he entrusted me with the Time-turner. Now isn't different. He's entrusting me with people to tell me what to do.

"Promise you'll obey every command, even if you think it strange or wrong?" he asks.

"...Yes," I assure him. If there's only one person I trust, it's Dumbledore.

The Peacekeepers burst through the doors and announce that his time is up. Calmly, Dumbledore stands.

"I'm proud of you, Miss Granger," he says over his shoulder, before the Peacekeepers usher him out and the doors shut tightly behind him. I curl up into a ball. I'll miss him, too.

The doors fling open again, but this time, a frantic Ginny rushes inside. She comes to my side and gazes at me with glassy eyes.

"Take this," she says, pressing something into my trembling hands. "It's to protect you."

I examine it. It's a pin, a circle with a triangle and a line inside of it, and an owl in flight. The owl is secured to the circle by just the tip of its wings. It's beautiful, and gold, and it's precious to me now, as Ginny's last gift.

"It was Mom's," she says. "It's the Deathly Hallows symbol, and a day-owl in flight."

"I'll pretend it's Hedwig, flying free," I say, running my fingers over it.

"Yeah," Ginny chokes.

Too sad to bear it, Ginny wipes a tear that threatens to spill from her red eyes and wraps her arms around me. My girl best friend, comforting me with her hugs. But it doesn't last long, because the Peacekeepers are again taking someone when I'm not ready for them to leave.

"Goodbye, Hermione!" I hear her shout. Then silence.

I look into my hand. Ginny said it was her mother's. How hard it must have been to let it go. I hope that, when I die, she'll receive the pin back. To keep it safe, I secure the pin to my shirt.

There's a short knock, and Harry comes in. We hug tightly, and he says comforting things that I mostly don't hear.

"... And I'll make sure the younger girls are fed. I don't care if we have to hunt extra time. Just until you come home," he promises.

"What if I don't?" There's always that possibility. No, probability. 100% chance.

"You'll be coming home," says Harry, and he sounds like he believes it. He lets me go. "Ron wants to see you. I'm leaving him more time," he explains, a sad twinge in his voice as he walks to the door. "Good luck, Hermione." And he's gone.

When Ron peeks his head from behind the door, my heart finally snaps in half. The broken look on his face, the way he comes to me and almost hesitantly takes me into his arms. But I'm still unable to cry. Instead, a horrible, aching feeling fills me.

"'Mione, it'll be OK," he manages, but I think it's more to comfort himself than me. I hug him tighter, burying my face into his chest. He smells of the woods, and faintly of the berries we picked earlier that day. Was it only a few hours ago? It feels like days already.

"You have to get a bow and arrow, you have to win, and come home." He pulls away from me, and I see his eyes, teary and shattered. "You have to come home to me."

I remember earlier, how I was thinking about Ron and I. How I thought there was no time for relationships in District 9 3/4. How I never really thought about it. Now, I feel guilty, that I never stopped to think of what could have been between Ron and I. Maybe nothing, maybe something amazing. But I'm too late. Now there really is no time in District 9 3/4.

We hug again, wrapped in each other's arms, and I'm glad that the Peacekeepers leave us be for a long time.

"Good luck," Ron says, when I let go of him. Time is up. Peacekeepers come, and take his arms. They're taking him out of the room...

"Remember, 'Mione, I-" begins Ron, but the doors slam shut before he can finish. Now I'll never now what he wanted me to remember.

The tears come now. My body heaves with huge sobs that hurt terribly as I stand in the middle of the room.

If only I had a Time-turner. I would turn it back to the beginning of my life, and live it again. Take advantage of all the moments I hadn't before. Because now, my time is out.


End file.
